


Stay with me (unlikely)

by blackstar



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, M/M, POV Derek, Stiles Feels, other tags as well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 11:48:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackstar/pseuds/blackstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is in a relationship, which painfully resembles the one Derek had with Kate. Derek is worried for him but afraid to do something to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay with me (unlikely)

**Author's Note:**

> Title and general idea and inspiration from Celldweller's song Stay with me (Unlikely). Listened to it all throughout writing the fic so maybe it works when reading it? No idea. 
> 
> Sorry in advance.
> 
> / minor Hannibal reference :D

 

He should have done something before. Long before today, long before he had to see Stiles fall apart like this, he should have done something for him. But Derek was an idiot and didn’t want to make guesses and didn’t want to disturb Stiles’ life and he didn’t want to intrude with his own feelings and make everything about them. He didn’t want to risk losing Stiles but he should have done something, anything at all, no matter the price he’d have to pay. Because he knew, and maybe he was the only one around who not only saw the consequences but really knew what it felt like to be in a relationship where you had no power and you felt worthless and used but still not used enough, needing approval and more attention and just love.

Holding Stiles’ unconscious body close, carrying him towards his home, Derek gritted his teeth and saw every opportunity for him to do something useful flash before his eyes.

**_\---_ **

The first time he saw her with Stiles, he knew. He should have said something then, because he noticed the way Stiles was looking at Elle, and it painfully reminded him of how Laura had described he himself had looked at Kate. Their hands intertwined, Stiles rarely looked at anything other than Elle’s face. He was actually worse off than Scott, almost obsessed-looking, like he was drunk with the feeling of loving this girl, this woman who had the potential to be a real monster.

Derek felt the pang of jealousy and pain that he had anticipated ever since Stiles had started talking about this transfer student that actually paid him, and not Scott, attention, but there was more. There was the terrible realization that Stiles was so like Derek, aged 17, and Elle was so like Kate, never mind her age. She looked like her, so much that he wondered how Stiles or any of his friends hadn’t made the connection yet (how had Allison not gasped at the resemblance, wasn’t this an almost perfect copy of her aunt?). Dirty blonde wavy hair, hazel eyes that inspected everything thoroughly, that judged people in the second they saw them, same way Kate’s had. And that smirk, icy cold and distant, that managed to convey fully how superior she felt to everyone around her. Derek didn’t want to admit it, but he had been a little afraid – and not for Stiles – but for himself. Maybe she was a hunter too. Maybe she was an Argent, maybe she wanted to destroy his family and life anew. Maybe the nightmare still hadn’t ended.

But she wasn’t, at least not a hunter. Later, it turned out that Scott had noticed the resemblance as well (after Allison had pointed it out) but didn’t want to compare the two of them because, apparently, they had nothing in common. Derek should never listen to Scott, never settle with his advice. Ever. Even for his best friend, he didn’t do his best (Derek was projecting, though, he knew Scott had no way of knowing, the kid was innocent still and so very naïve, he couldn’t have suspected what Elle was doing to Stiles; what Kate had done to him).

Derek didn’t do anything, didn’t tell Stiles a thing when he asked. They had gotten pretty close in the past couple of months and Stiles ran thing past him when he wasn’t sure how to act, what to do.

“She’s beautiful, right?” he had asked, eyes bright and smile wide.

“Yeah, she is.” .” _Doesn’t she remind you of someone, though?_ – he should have said.

“And she’s really really smart. Like, honestly, she’s probably smarted than me.” He laughed for a second and then he gasped dramatically “Maybe smarter than Lydia?”

“Don’t say that, Lydia’s gonna kill you.” Derek had laughed when instead he should have warned him how manipulative she may be as well. It was all in her eyes, if he would just look for that instead of for affection. 

“Ok, ok, maybe not that smart but I mean. She is. She’s wonderful.” Stiles was looking a bit dazed, daydreaming even though she had barely left a couple of minutes ago.

“You’re turning into Scott.” _You’re turning into me when I was in love with Kate. Stop it, it won’t end well._

“You’re just jealous, aren’t you?” Derek’s breath hitched before Stiles continued, laughing and outstretching his index finger in warning “Don’t you try and steal my girlfriend, I’m serious. I mean please don’t try, because if you do, let’s be honest, I don’t have a chance.” He laughed and Derek wanted to reach out and touch his smile because it looked pained, wanted  to assure him that there was no competition because Stiles was infinitely better than him but stopped and smiled instead.

“I’ll try.” He said sarcastically and then turned to an easier topic. He didn’t want to remember Kate and he didn’t want to imagine Stiles with this girl. They watched a movie and ate Derek’s famous (after he had shown the pack that he actually could find his way around a kitchen) homemade ice-cream.

_**\---** _

He put Stiles in his bed, tucked him in after taking off his shoes and hoodie. Pulled a chair in and sat himself next to the boy he loved, looking at his sleeping face, still angry at himself, still guilty of doing nothing at all. He sighed and let his hand drift around in Stiles’ outgrown hair – the way Elle said she preferred it, and waited until the boy woke.

_**\---** _

There was this one time when he found Stiles in his house in the middle of the night. He was sitting on the living room couch, doing nothing, just staring at the darkness because he hadn’t turned the lights on. Derek, of course, had still sensed him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked from the stairs, sleep still in his voice, even though the worry was erasing any kind of grogginess from him.

“Nn.” Stiles answered, not looking up. After Derek hit the light switch, the boy turned halfway around, facing the wall instead of him. The werewolf growled as the distinct smell of blood, all rust and life mixed together, hit him. He hadn’t felt it earlier because it was too faint, but it was still there, coming from Stiles.

“Stiles, what happened? Tell me.” In retrospect, Derek could have shown a little more warmth in that conversation, but back then he was out of his mind with worry and there was this big part of him that repeated again and again that if Stiles knew how Derek really felt, he’d lose him.

“Um, it’s nothing really. You can go back to bed, I’ll just… uh, stay here. If you don’t mind? ‘Cuz if you do, I can totally go somewhere else, like, I mean, Scott’s or something or I can--”

“Stiles. I can smell the blood, you should know that.”

“Shit.” Stiles cursed quietly “Honest, forgot about that. Sorry. Really, sorry, didn’t mean to freak you out or anything, I’m fine.”

“Then what’s with the blood? And the coming at my place at 3 AM?” he was getting closer without meaning to, afraid of what the boy might say, ready to go and avenge him, even though, really, he knew what had happened. It had happened to him as well, and he had known it was coming.

“It was a… it was a game.”

“Turn around.” Derek half-barked and Stiles did, reluctantly, maybe because he knew that Derek would just come and turn him around forcefully if he refused to tell him what’s going on. All the fight went out of Derek after seeing Stiles’ face bruised and bloodied, and he just wanted to cross the small distance and comfort the boy, clean the wounds and get him to bed – not even in the dirty way, just get him some rest and a soft pillow and safety. He stopped himself from all that but stepped closer still.

“Was it Elle?” he couldn’t stop himself.

“She didn’t mean to. It was my fault mostly.” Stiles tried to smile a little smile but cringed and gave up, as if the pain was too much to be worth it. Derek growled. There were so many things he wanted to say, he wanted to do. He wanted to tell him that he should stop putting the blame on himself for everything, he wanted to kiss him and kill her, he wanted to protect his pack, he wanted to soothe Stiles’ wounds with kind words he knew came difficult for him but he would still try. He felt breathless, saw red in his vision and then Stiles jumped and crossed the distance between them himself. There was a soothing hand on Derek’s bicep, as if he was the one who needed care.

“I swear, it’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t—don’t flip out, I just needed to go somewhere for the night, I didn’t want risking my dad seeing me like this. Derek. Hey, Derek, look at me. It’s fine.”

 _How is it fine, Stiles?_ -he should have asked - _How is it fine that I’ve never seen you hurt as often and you’re the fucking boy that runs with wolves? How is it fine that you love her and she treats you like you don’t deserve her attention? How is it fine that you yourself have started seeing yourself as someone who deserves this treatment? How is it fine that you love her when I can give you so much more, when I can love you and be the real thing, protect you instead of hurt you, kiss you instead of hit you? How is it fine that I have to stand by and watch you get destroyed by that monster?_ – Derek swallowed all of those questions and gritted his teeth. He nodded towards the stairs and started walking, hearing Stiles’ steps trail behind him. He led the boy to the bathroom and cleaned the cuts on his face in silence with the first-aid kit that he had never used before. He got Stiles to lie in Derek’s bed and shut up about sleeping on the couch and then turned off the lights in his bedroom, walking out. He stood in the hall for a long time, waiting to cool off even though he never did, not completely. He thought about all the things he should say to Stiles, how he should tell him about Kate, tell him everything, how it had started and ended and how damaged that had left him. How much time he needed to get himself together, not only because Kate had killed almost his entire family, but because she had almost killed him as well. He was sane now only because of Laura, only because she was there to listen and to really hear, to comfort him and reassure him of everything he doubted.

He listened to Stiles’ calm, sleeping heartbeat for a long time and then went out for a run in the woods because the sunrise was getting closer and he always ran with the sunrise. He felt himself cooling down a bit, told himself he’ll sort it out soon. He wanted to try and gradually get Stiles to see what was going on.

When he got back, Stiles’ Jeep was gone, and so was he, a note on Derek’s made bed saying a simple “Thanks. -S” being the only thing left. He decided to wait a bit more, maybe she wasn’t like Kate. He was mostly just lying to himself, scared of what might happen. He hadn’t listened to reason in Stiles’ place, with Kate. Jordan, his cousin, had warned him that the girl was up to no good, even if he couldn’t see the wounds because they would heal lightning-fast. Kate loved seeing him ‘patch himself back together’, most of the time hurt him with wide eyes, breath stopping in amazement as she watched him heal. She got off on that, on seeing the magic work, and Derek thought that was love – her fascination with what he could do, with what he was.  Jordan never had a chance, Derek was in love. And now Derek though he had no chance – Stiles was in love.

_**\---** _

Hours passed and Stiles still lay there with no sign of consciousness coming back to him. Derek was getting anxious, looking at the clock more often than not, wondering if he should have taken Stiles to the hospital instead. There were moments when he thought he could hear changes in Stiles’ heartbeat but maybe he was just imagining it. Maybe it was nightmares, for all he knew.

He stood there, regretting every part of the last 24 hours in which he talked, of the last months in which he didn’t. He wanted to take it all back and re-do everything, back from the beginning. But he couldn’t so he made his mental list of mistakes on this topic longer still.

_**\---** _

Before getting physical, before the evidence was too obvious to turn away from, there were little things changing in Stiles. Maybe Derek noticed because he had undergone the same process, or maybe because he was paying closer attention than the others.

To be honest, the others noticed as well. They just took it in a different way. They teased Stiles about being whipped by the girlfriend, of being more awful than Scott was in his devotion to Elle. They joked around but that was all for them – lighthearted jokes and nothing more.

For Derek, it was obvious – it was Elle taking control. Control and dominance she would later use more thoroughly in order to fulfill her needs – whatever that girl needed that she had to hurt Stiles to get it.

Stiles had loved texting people before – about everything, stupid things really – what the new episode of How I met your Mother had revealed or how awesome the new band he was listening to was. All random and funny in a way most people couldn’t text even if they tried. Now he texted almost exclusively to just answer questions. And the questions came mainly from Elle when she wasn’t with him – where was he, who with, why, for how long. She had told him that the constant texting was annoying and he had stopped after that, for everyone.

He started working out more, even tried changing the way he dressed when he was with her outside. He let his hair grow out. When she was around, he tried talking slower, used less “um”s and “like”s. He started talking less overall, even when it was obvious that he wanted to just ramble on like usual. He was turning into someone else and Derek didn’t like it. One time he asked Isaac about it and the boy had turned and looked at him wide-eyed and asked

“What’s wrong with that? He’s growing up, it was about time.” He laughed a bit and then stopped, picking up on Derek’s mood. “What, you don’t like him like this?”

“It’s not that, just… never mind.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah.” And that was the end of that.

_**\---** _

Stiles stirred a bit in the bed and Derek tensed up. A hundred thousand words fought for a place in the first sentence he would say to the boy. Of course, the smartest ones won.

“Hey, Stiles.” He said, whispered to be more precise, while looking down on Stiles, who was trying to open his eyes. The boy mumbled something and tried to turn away from what was disturbing his rest but then reality caught up with him in some way and he stopped, frozen halfway through his turn to the side.

“Did… what I think just happened really just happen or was I dreaming? Because everything hurts.” he asked, his voice rough like sand.

“It did. I think. I don’t know what you dreamed about, honestly. Maybe it didn’t.” Derek was confused now, squinting his eyes at Stiles, who started laughing. A short, bubbly laugh which drowned in itself and died away, possibly in pain.

“What’s the time now?” he asked after a heartbeat of silence.

“Half past four.”

“In the morning, right?”

“Yes, in the morning.” Derek smiled against himself.

“Well then, I need more sleep if I’m going to make my brain work tomorrow. Today. Yes, later today.”

Derek got up from his chair, getting the hint but was stopped by a cold hand around his wrist.

“Stay with me.” Stiles asked, quietly “Please, don’t go.” He added and then let go of Derek’s hand. When Derek turned around, Stiles was lying sideways on the bed, halfway covered with his blanket in one corner, in a way that made a lot of space for extra inhibitors, if there were any. Derek smiled and sat upright on the bed, looking down at Stiles for a second, until he decided it was creepy, and then staring off at empty space (and Stiles’ posters on the wall against him) until he started hearing the even breaths of the boy next to him, which meant he was safe and resting. He began thinking of what to say tomorrow morning, when he would have to explain himself.

_**\---** _

There were many times when Derek couldn’t hold it in anymore. Couldn’t hold in his frustration, his anger towards Elle and Stiles alike (even though he knew he was angry at Stiles for something he had done himself – but wasn’t Stiles smarter than him? So much brighter and better than what he had been…), couldn’t hold back the accusations and pleas. Every time he felt it was too much, he ran away, one way or another. He went to the woods, wolfed out and killed animals or just ran, he broke whatever was in front of his face in his house after he got there, he yelled at his betas for unimportant details. He ran and hid every time without fail, even when he saw the cuts on Stiles’ face, even when he knew this was getting out of hand. He repeated to himself again and again that it wasn’t his place, that it wasn’t Kate; that this was not him. She wouldn’t kill Stiles’ father, wouldn’t hurt his friends.

She had power only over Stiles. She could hurt Stiles. She hurt Stiles all the time.

But it wasn’t Derek’s place and instead of acting, he ran and hid and suppressed his feelings. Right until he blew up.

Eight days after he found Stiles bleeding in his home, Stiles’ wounds not completely healed yet, a reminder of what had happened, Derek was sitting in Scott’s armchair, which was linked with the couch so that more people could fit. It was pack movie night, which extended to boyfriends and girlfriends and some just-friends sometimes, and they were watching the couple of episodes that had gathered from the latest season of The Mentalist. It was one of three series the pack watched together, having fun discussing the cases and painting scenarios in which the detectives were supposed to unravel the Beacon Hills cases (that happened only when all people around the TV were werewolf-knowledgeable, of course). It was a calm night overall, excluding the fact that every time Derek glanced at Stiles, he saw the marks she had left on him, saw a flash of what Stiles’ face had looked like bloodied from those same wounds, and saw her, the one at fault, sitting in Stiles’ lap, grinning widely, talking to everyone like she wasn’t hurting Stiles when they were alone. Meaning, it was everything but a calm night for Derek.

He barely followed the plot and he didn’t notice the twist that made Scott turn to Allison with a shocked “Did you see that coming? I didn’t see that coming at all.” What he did notice, though, was Elle and Stiles, sitting together, quietly talking about something while Elle was looking at Derek. She had that Kate-smirk plastered on her face, vicious and intent, and she whispered something in Stiles’ ear, after which she patted him on the cheek. This one gesture was what tipped Derek off, this movement which he knew so well that he actually saw Kate instead of Elle there, sitting on Stiles’ lap, claiming him as her pet. He saw red in one second and in the next he was getting up and storming away to the kitchen.

He wanted to leave but he couldn’t. Something was pulling him back because he had taken this for too long. He had to stop her, had to pull Stiles away. A million things raced in his head while he paced on the kitchen floor. Stiles, of course, was the one who came to check on him. Stiles, with his big, clear, worried eyes staring at Derek, closed the door behind him and waited a second.

“Honest, I thought you’d have left by now.” He mumbled absent-mindedly, looking at his feet. Derek’s gaze shot upward.

“Was I supposed to?” he hissed, anger filling him all over again.

“No, but that’s what you do, right? When you don’t wanna talk, I mean.” Stiles looked up, met Derek’s eyes “That’s okay, I get that. I just… if it’s something I can, like, help with.” Stiles gestured with his hand, implying the rest of the sentence. Derek growled and crept closer to Stiles, losing his resolve.

“Are you kidding me right now? You wanna tell me you don’t know why I’m angry.”

“Well you seem to be angry all the time, I lost count of how many things anger you already. Sorry ‘bout that.” Stiles pouted and looked away. Derek raised his voice, stepping even closer

“Do you think it’s easy for me? Seeing one of my pack being hurt? You do know I’m your Alpha, right?” Stiles’ lips almost quirked up in the end but couldn’t manage it. Instead, he was just staring, silent, as Derek grew closer, poking a finger in his chest and yelling. “Do you think I can continue watching her ruin you? I know what’s going on, Stiles, and I can’t just sit around anymore.” He barked. Stiles remained silent, now of all times, his eyes wide in shock, his mouth a little slack. Derek wasn’t finished yet though. “I’d rather you go away if this is not going to stop. I can’t---” Stiles winced visibly and Derek stopped dead in his tracks. Everyone could hear him from the next room when he was yelling like this, werewolf or not. He backed away, hearing his words repeated in his own head. What would he have done if Jacob had said this to him, back in the day? If it was his father, his Alpha? If he threatened to make him choose between the pack and Kate he--- he was stupidly in love, he would have probably left. And now maybe Stiles would. Maybe Stiles would leave him, leave the pack, wouldn’t talk to him. He bit his tongue, he should have kept it together. Turning away, not meeting Stiles’ eyes, he apologized hurriedly and jumped through out through the window, not responding to Stiles yelling his name.

_**\---** _

When Derek woke up, he was hugging Stiles in the most uncomfortable position ever invented. His head was propped on the headboard still but the rest of his body had slumped down on the bed, hand on Stiles, legs tangled in Stiles’. The boy was still sleeping and as much as Derek didn’t want to wake him, it hurt to stand this way and he was a bit disoriented. He didn’t know what time it was or when he had fallen asleep and the fog of his sleep wasn’t going away on its own today. He took his hand and legs away as slowly as he could and tried to get up without stirring the bed. Unfortunately, Stiles was apparently a light sleeper. His brow furrowed and he grunted, starting to wake up himself. He opened an eye and then the other one, fixing his stare at Derek. Derek almost forgot he was sleeping soundly just seconds ago.

“What time is it?” Stiles growled, rubbing at his face with both of his hands. Derek worried for a second that he’d freshen his cuts.

“No idea.” He took out his phone – 6 missed calls from Scott and Isaac – “Eleven.”

“Good, it’s still morning.” There was a brief pause in which Derek didn’t know what to do with himself “We need to talk.” Stiles said finally. Derek nodded solemnly, almost as if readying himself for an execution. “But after coffee. And some sort of water washing my face, at least.” Stiles grunted and pushed his blanket away.

Half an hour later, when they were both holding a cup of steaming coffee in their hands, Stiles opened his mouth to talk for the first time since the bed. “My dad’s already at work. He won’t be home until tonight.”

“Okay.”

“So…”

“Stiles, look.” Derek started and ran his hand over his hair a couple of times “I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t have said those things. I know I shouldn’t have yelled.” He took a deep breath, remembering how he had found Stiles, on the ground in front of Elle’s house, after her punishment to him, for God knows what exactly – for letting Derek see him hurt, for letting him speak up against her, for not defending her maybe. Stiles was bruised and panting, exhausted and embarrassed and he had called Derek of all people to come get him, trying to hide the fact that he was sobbing. He couldn’t quite hold himself up alone. This morning he could, thankfully, but Derek hadn’t tried to see how bruised he was underneath his shirt. “I’m… I should have known better, I’ve been there. Like, exactly there, exactly where you are and I know that’s not the right way to talk to you and I know you love her and I--” Derek stopped when Stiles’ hand fell on his. There was a small smile on Stiles’ lips even though there were tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“Thanks, Derek.” He said simply and then sniffed, holding a finger up to stop Derek from talking while he was gathering himself up. “You know, I don’t love her.” He said finally, looking down at the table, at his coffee. His hand was still on Derek’s, clutching weakly. “I mean, I thought I did. I really, really, honestly did. She was so loving, at first. You know, right until the point where she wasn’t anymore.” He laughed drily, quoting the episode of Hannibal they had watched a couple of nights back. “Guess I just… wanted that. You know. Love.”

“Stiles, I-”

“Shh, wait.” Stiles interrupted and took his hand away from Derek’s in order to hold it up. “So, what I wanted to say. Two things.” He held up two fingers, eyes still avoiding Derek’s. “One: don’t be sorry. And second – thanks. A lot. I think I needed that final straw so I could realize I didn’t need that. Yesterday night she was so…” His words drifted away with his gaze, as if he was reliving the night. When he finally looked up, Derek couldn’t close his mouth, shock and awe written on his face. “What?” Stiles prompted.

“I… I would have understood if you had chosen her over the pack, after the way I put it yesterday night. I thought it over and over again and I know that 10 years back, that was me and Kate I was watching and if I was choosing, I’d choose her.” Stiles’ eyes had darkened but he still asked Derek to explain himself. “From the beginning, I saw how similar she was to Kate. I know what effect that could have on people, I know what she does and… I know how I reacted. And I thought you’d be the same way but” he smiled then, genuine and happy “but you’ve always been so much more.” When their eyes met, Stiles found it hard to breathe for a second.

“You know why I couldn’t choose her over you, right?” Stiles asked, surprising himself. He couldn’t avert his eyes away from Derek’s now, he was just staring, mouth a little slack. Their hands had found each other again. Derek only mouthed “why”, afraid to ask after so much delaying, after so much fear. There was a long moment, in which neither of them moved. It felt like they weren’t breathing, like their hearts weren’t beating in their chests, as if time had decided to take a break and leave them to their wishes.

 

In the heat of it, there was a mug broken and coffee on the floor, but it was worth it after Derek had Stiles in his arms. He touched with gentleness he hadn’t imagine he could muster after all the waiting, touched Stiles’ face, mapping fading wounds and freckles, touched Stiles’ neck, pulling him closer. He pushed their mouths together slowly, not breaking eye contact because he couldn’t. He felt Stiles’ sigh with all of his being and it felt as if the heavy stone, lying on his heart, that he hadn’t even noticed as a separate existence, was shattered. He smiled, which made Stiles smile as well and they stayed like that, noses touching, exchanging breaths, just looking at each other, for what felt like hours.

**Author's Note:**

> First time I actually finished a sterek fic after starting and leaving halfway at least a dozen ideas. I don't know if it's any good but I'm glad I wrote it.  
> I hope everything's understandable and I haven't filled too much of the story just in my mind. 
> 
> Also, I'm thinking of writing a sequel with the actual talk that Derek and Stiles have to have and their relationship from this point on but we'll see.


End file.
